


Seasons of Love

by littlemisstpk



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beach Sex, Beach Volleyball, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destructive Behaviours, Gaslighting, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Kozume Kenma is a Good Friend, M/M, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, One-Sided Relationship, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Post-Time Skip, Sakusa Kiyoomi is Bad at Feelings, Showers, Under-negotiated Kink, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24119467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisstpk/pseuds/littlemisstpk
Summary: A series of seminal romances in Hinata Shouyou's life after high school.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Hoshiumi Kourai, Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou/Pedro, Hinata Shouyou/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Hinata Shouyou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 70
Kudos: 358
Collections: Hinata Rare Pair Week 2020





	1. i hope you're happy, even if you aren't mine

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 summary:
> 
> Kenma loves Shouyou, but Shouyou doesn't love him the same way.
> 
> For Hinata Rarepair Week Day 1: There Was Only One Bed

April 2015

Kenma shouldn’t be surprised when his phone vibrates with an incoming email, but he’s jolted out of the match he’s playing online, enough that the minute hesitation causes him to die onscreen. Sighing, he takes the small respawning delay to check the bare minimum of the notification on his phone’s screen, looks at the countdown timer in the corner of his screen, and does a few calculations in his brain. Shouyou has just left the train station in his area of Tokyo, and will arrive shortly. This will be Kenma’s last match of the day.

Even with the previous hesitation, Kenma buckles down to obliterate his opponents. He scans over the angry chat messages aimed in his direction, and allows himself a small victory smile at the sheer volume of hate aimed in his direction.

Just on cue, his phone vibrates again, this time an incoming call. Shouyou’s number flashes on his screen, and Kenma smiles to himself as he swipes to accept the call. “How lost are you?”

“I see a house, I think it’s yours, but it’s hard to tell.”

Kenma chuckles to himself as he peers through the window, seeing Shouyou spinning around aimlessly. He ends the calls abruptly, opens his front door, and leans against the doorframe. “If you’re going to Okinawa to train, you’re going to need a better sense of direction than that.”

Shouyou lowers the phone from his ear, and he laughs as he makes his way into the house. It’s certainly nice to hang out in person once again, and it really has been too long. Shouyou chatters aimlessly, and he’s still the enthusiastic little bastard who wormed his way into Kenma’s life three years before. 

However, he’s not the carefree soul who got lost in his own prefecture: Kenma notices the tension in Shouyou’s shoulders, as his friend balls his fists even as he exclaims his wonder at Kenma’s game room.

It’s unsettling to watch his brash friend as anxious as he is, but Kenma finally finds the opportunity to shoo Shouyou towards his kotatsu. He’s not the best at brewing a pot of tea, but he makes a passable cup, and sets in front of Shouyou like a somewhat proper host. He can see Shouyou’s fingers grip the mug in front of him nearly as tightly as the line drawn across his face.

Just as Kenma raises his own mug to his lips, Shouyou looks back at him. “Kenma, I really,  _ really _ appreciate it, but why’d you decide to become my sponsor?” There’s an unspoken question that Kenma hears between the spoken words,  _ Why am I worthy of this attention? _

Kenma sets down his tea. “Why not? I mean, I have the money.” It’s a plain statement, but despite the smile on Shouyou’s face, Shouyou remains tense enough that Kenma mildly fears broken ceramic from the iron grip it’s in.

Shouyou jiggles his mug so that the steaming surface of the liquid ripples in its confines. "It would be easier if Coach Washijo said that I could go to Rio right away." He sighs as the tea settles. "But I have to train before going." 

"And so you need to go to Okinawa." Kenma finishes Shouyou's thoughts for him. At the disheartened sigh, he continues, "You know I'm going to help out with both, right? Just don't stop being interesting, or else I'll drop you." A smile crawls across his face, showing that he's teasing. 

The subdued half-smile that doesn't reach Shouyou's eyes worries Kenma a bit, but he wordlessly agrees. 

To break the uncomfortable standstill, Kenma drains his mug of the remaining tea, pulls his legs from the warmth of the kotatsu, and stands up. "Come on, let's play. You'll feel better when you interact with people on stream." 

It's not the first time that Kenma has hosted Shouyou on stream, he just keeps the games casual and fun. Those streams also happen to be some of the more popular ones on the rare times they happen, simply because Shouyou does not play many video games. 

The fighting game is simple and cartoony, and to be fair to Shouyou, Kenma puts a heavy handicap on himself. As they play, when he doesn't hear Shouyou yelling at Kenma for a particularly cheap move, he catches Shouyou holding the controller up by his left ear with his tongue sticking out. It's heartening to see his boisterous, competitive friend back, even if it's only for a couple hours, and judging by the comments and number of views on his stream, his viewers enjoy the entertainment as well.

After a couple of hours and a solitary win on Shouyou's side, he lets out a wide yawn, prompting Kenma to sign off from the stream. It's when he goes to the bedroom that he realizes that there is a very deep flaw in his plan; he has no spare futon to roll out for guests. It's the one thing that keeps Kuro from being an unwanted roommate.

He leads Shouyou to his bedroom, and shows him to his slightly-larger-than-average bed. “Here, I don’t have a futon for guests, but you can take my bed.” As he starts to bring out his single spare set of clean sheets to make the bed for his guest, Shouyou’s eyes widen until they resemble dinnerplates.

“Where are you going to sleep then? I don’t want to put you out of your bed.” It’s uncharacteristic of Shouyou to worry like this, Kenma thinks. He’s used to the brash personality and the sound effects in place of actual words that pepper the conversation and never fails to make him smile.

Kenma points in the direction of the living room. “I was just going to go to the kotatsu. I’ve fallen asleep under there by accident more than once while playing my 3DS.”

“No,” Hinata starts, speaking almost too loudly. Instead, he hesitates a moment before he continues. “Your bed is big. I’d be okay with sharing it if you don’t hate the idea.”

He tilts his head, trying to analyze Shouyou’s intent, looking for any scrap of there being anything more than friendly behind Shouyou’s words. Instead, all that Kenma can discern is that Shouyou is being his friendly, affectionate self, even if it’s currently being overlaid by some newly found anxiety about adult responsibilities.

“I’m okay with it, I just didn’t want to assume for you.”

Shouyou deflates in relief, and even though Kenma’s normal bedtime isn’t for another several hours, he plugs his phone and 3DS into the chargers beside the bed, and climbs in beside Shouyou. It doesn’t take long before his breathing evens out and he starts to softly snore, which makes Kenma smile.

Considering the length of Kenma’s crush on the man dozing beside him, he’s mildly surprised that he’s not feeling any of the butterflies or anxiety that all the movies and shows talk about when you’re in an intimate situation with the person you care about. Instead, Kenma is relaxed, and as he looks over at where Shouyou’s orange hair peeks out of the blanket, his eyes droop as he relaxes into the mattress.

He doesn’t know how long he’s slept, but judging from the weight across his chest, Kenma figures that it has been a fair amount of time. Shouyou had moved in his sleep, and instead of being curled into a fetal position, pointed away from Kenma, he’s sprawled over Kenma’s body. It’s actually comical at how much room this man takes up in his bed, but Shouyou’s body is warm and his breath hits that spot behind his ear that sends shivers down his spine. 

Shouyou shuffles closer in his sleep, and Kenma thinks he hears a garbled version of his own name as Shouyou pulls him closer. The movement is just enough that a stray section of Shouyou’s hair falls into his eyes, and before Kenma can stop himself, he pushes it out of the way. Even with the small touch, Shouyou stays asleep.

As much as Kenma would like Shouyou’s sleep addled words to indicate any sort of hint that his feelings are in any way reciprocated, he knows deep down that it’s not going to happen. As he gently moves Shouyou’s arm trapping him to the bed, Kenma makes the decision to not let his unreturned feelings stand in the way of his friend’s dream. Instead, he gets up to go to his game room, following his own.

It’s several weeks later when Kenma’s suspicions are confirmed, smiling at the selfie on Nishihara beach amongst the tourists and the beach courts in the background. The white sand makes Shouyou’s vibrant smile and vibrant hair even more blinding, and he only feels his best friend moving further out of his reach.

He turns off his phone screen, turns towards his streaming set up, and talks into the camera.

“Okay, today I’m just going to practice some speedrunning.”


	2. his name is rio and he dances on the sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Oikawa Tooru goes to Rio for an exhibition game, he doesn't expect to find Hinata playing volleyball on the beach, or the whirlwind week that came after.
> 
> Hinata rarepair week day 2: Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone.
> 
> This was originally going to be posted on Day 2 of Hinata Rarepair Week. Obviously, that didn't happen. 
> 
> I work in a hospital, which ultimately means this current world situation has been inescapable, even as I try and write my way out of it. As well, if I've been consistent about anything, it's that I've been underestimating the effect that the stress of everything has had on my body.
> 
> I haven't forgotten about this, I've had it outlined for months. I've come back to my outlines and still found them as exciting as I did when I first made them. I just need to finish the rest of it with a little bit of compassion and a lot of sleep in my system. 
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy where this earns its E rating.

July 2016

The hardest thing about moving to the southern hemisphere, Tooru finds, is recalibrating his brain to the different seasons. For eighteen years, April was cherry blossom season, and July often meant unbearable warmth. Instead, April in San Juan shows falling leaves, and his birthday is often frigid enough to warrant wearing a coat to fight off the mid-winter chill. 

Even speaking English all the time puts a damper into his mood, so his jokes go from being playfully offensive to simply being offensive. He’s harshly reminded that his Argentinian teammates are not Makki, Mattsun and Iwa-chan who give as well as they take, and that delicate line he knew how to perfectly straddle back home is steadily becoming one separating him from the others. As he pokes at the frown on his face, Tooru starts to understand his kohai just a little bit better; he’s only slightly more attractive than Kageyama while in this mood.

Though just because he understands his kohai, it does not mean he wants to think of him.

When Tooru enters the main terminal at Galeão, the warmth of the Rio air is a balm on his stressed mind - the upcoming exhibition game is a necessary evil to him relaxing on white sand beaches. It’s still technically winter, but it’s out of the mountains, and the heat is closer to what he’d experience back in Miyagi at this time of year. Even this small gift is enough to lift his mood.

The managers had booked the team a hotel not far from Flamengo Beach, and with a couple days until their raison d’être for their sanctioned vacation, Tooru does little more than toss his suitcase into his room and meet some teammates in the hotel lobby. It’s past sunset, but from everything that Tooru’s heard about the city, it’s just as lively at night as it is during the day, possibly even more so. Excitement permeates his body in a way that hasn’t happened for a long time. 

The good thing about sightseeing and going out to eat with fellow professional volleyball players is that on their trip to the restaurant, there’s a silent agreement to take the scenic route along the boardwalk to check out the beach volleyball. Flamengo Beach has a high concentration of beach courts, and all of them are full. It’s a heartening sight, as there are many different ages playing, and playing well. An older, rather rotund man is even clapping a much younger player with orange hair on the shoulder in obvious encouragement, an adhoc pair.

It’s when the younger player speaks halting Portuguese using distinctly Japanese pronunciations that Tooru realizes that he knows this player. He mumbles, “Is this real life?”, mostly to himself, because what are the chances that Hinata Shouyou would also be in South America pursuing volleyball? Tooru is just glad he had no money placed on the outcome of that question, because he would have lost.

He confirms his suspicions as Hinata turns around, and he’s just as surprised as Tooru to see him on the boardwalk. Judging by the snickers and highly amused expressions on his teammates’ faces, they find Tooru’s surprise hilarious. 

"Looks like you've finally grown." Tooru can't help but tease the man in front of him. Using his first language reminds him of who he used to be, playful in a slightly obnoxious but intentional way. It also doesn't hurt that even with the extra height, Hinata has started to fill out with muscle, losing some of baby fat from his cheeks in the process. If Tooru had to guess, Hinata ended up being a heartbreaker in his later years of high school. 

"Gra-" Hinata hesitates before he starts again. "Oikawa-san, what are you doing here?" He nearly vibrates in place. Whether it's from fear or excitement, Tooru doesn't know for sure. 

He playfully glares at Hinata. "Stop stealing my lines." 

Tooru's teammate interjects in English. "Tooru, do you know him?" 

"Yep, he's a middle schooler who lived in my neighbourhood." 

Instead of the loud exclamation that Tooru had expected, Hinata speaks in a low tone. "You know, I can understand basic English." It's a warning uttered in a way that sinks under his skin and settles somewhere deep in his groin. 

Interesting. 

Tooru gets the barest idea of a plan, and speaks it out loud before it's fully formed. "You know, we were about to go get something to eat, let's catch up over food? Take me somewhere good." He lets his downstairs brain take over, as he leers at Hinata. "My treat." 

Hinata's eyes start to glitter in the most literal sense. It takes Tooru a moment to realize that those sparkles are actually unshed tears. "I know a spot where you can get a lot of healthy food for cheap." He bites his lips as he pauses. "My wallet got stolen today, so your offer to pay for food is really generous, and I appreciate it." 

There's no hesitation between that roundabout 'yes' and Tooru turning to face his teammates, twinkling his fingers in a playful wave to make it clear that he's ditching them for Hinata. His teammates catch on, and laugh as they continue up the boardwalk. 

"Come on, chibi-chan, lead the way." 

The restaurant ends up being a cafeteria style seating area, with a walk-up counter. Between the two of them, they order so much food that it takes up two full tables. 

Hinata immediately starts digging in after a small thanks for the food. When Tooru finally takes a bite, he understands part of why Hinata eats so quickly. It tastes delicious, and shares notes from the Argentinian cuisine Tooru has gotten used to while still being something new and exciting. 

"Geez, chibi-chan, where are you packing all of this food?" Tooru has spent the vast majority of his life around muscle heads and jocks and their resulting massive appetites. Hinata's is easily within the top ten percent of those. 

Hinata's cheeks puff out from being filled with food. "I'm bulking." It's a miracle that he manages to keep all of it in his mouth. 

Tooru laughs, and even though Hinata is being objectively gross in the moment, he manages to make it look adorable. He even slows down his eating as Tooru describes his move from Japan to Argentina in detail, gasping at the dramatic spots, and looking at Tooru with wonder. 

In the end, Tooru only ends up eating a third of the total amount of food, but the smile on Hinata's face is like sunshine. It's blindingly bright, warm, and Tooru finds himself wanting to bask in its presence for as long as he can. 

So when Hinata suggests a late night game of beach volleyball, Tooru can't say no, despite the travel weariness quickly catching up to him. 

As they make their way back to the boardwalk, Hinata walks close enough to Tooru so that their hands brush with every second step that they take. It's a tactic that he recognizes very well, because this is one of Tooru's tricks as well. They're just enough in each other's personal space to skirt the edges of intimacy, inviting the opportunity for more, all while maintaining a sense of denial in case they guessed wrong.

One of the courts is now vacant, so Hinata takes off his shoes, and he picks up a ball. "Come on!" Hinata smiles wide enough that he can light the night sky with his enthusiasm, and he kicks up small tufts of sand as he skips out to the middle of the court. 

Tooru rushes to take off his shoes and joins where Hinata waits for him, expectantly. 

Beach volleyball has a few cursory things that it shares with its indoor cousin, and while there are a lot of transferable skills between the two, Tooru finds that the sand and wind are unforgiving, even as it cushions the knee he had sprained back in second year of high school. Learning to move on an unstable surface makes him feel like Bambi learning how to walk across ice. Hinata laughs an ugly, loud laugh as Tooru discovers that the sand on Flamengo Beach tastes salty as it fills his mouth with grit at another dig gone badly. 

"Don't you feel discouraged at learning a new sport from the beginning?"

"Nope," Hinata replies. "I like levelling up." 

His wide grin of pure glee softens until Hinata looks at him with adoration. "You know, for one brief moment, I was feeling depressed and down." Hinata looks up at him, and his eyes crinkle as he smiles as wide as possible. "But seeing you has put me in an awesome mood. Thanks!" 

Before Tooru can do something stupid like grab at Hinata and kiss that infuriatingly bright smile off his face, he hears the challenge from the boardwalk, and Tooru only fully understands the words, "Jackie Chan," even as the invitation to play is implied. 

"Maybe they think we're Chinese," Hinata mumbles to Tooru. 

Instead, Tooru calls out in English, "We're not Jackie Chan, we're Ken Watanabe!" 

The language of competition supersedes all other languages, and it's clear that their challengers are just as competitive as himself and Hinata. If Tooru and Hinata had been playing on an indoor court, they would have creamed the pair of locals they were currently playing. However, under the shifting beach sands, Tooru is little more than a beginner who can dig a ball. 

Despite his difficulties, Tooru watches Hinata in his new element, proficiently setting the ball and digging receives on par with an excellent libero. He's no longer the clumsy baby bird who still managed to beat Seijoh all those years ago, and it's heartening to see that scary intense smile on his side rather than through the net directed at him. 

For the first time in years, Tooru has fun without any worries about what it will provide to his volleyball career. 

It's aggravating when they lose, but there's something magnetic in their shared aggravation that burns under Tooru's skin the closer he stands to Hinata. Hinata looks back at him, entirely too close to be comfortable, and smiles with a hint of a challenge. 

Tooru takes Hinata's hand, spins him around, and makes him look directly into his eyes. "Do you know what you're doing, and what it's doing to me?" He's not smiling, but he's concentrating hard on what microexpressions might flit across Hinata's face that would help Tooru parse the situation. Hinata is fit, relatively muscular, more than slightly attractive, and it makes Tooru want.

Hinata's smile turns from feigned innocence to slightly predatory, and that's Tooru's only warning. Hinata's free hand loops around Tooru's neck, and pulls him down to capture him in a searing kiss. Tooru pulls him closer until their bodies are flush, and he feels Hinata appreciatively groan against his lips. 

He breaks the kiss in order to scan the cityscape for his hotel, and Tooru is glad to see the outline of the building is relatively close to where they're standing. He lets out a sigh of relief, and leans into Hinata's ear. 

"So, chibi-chan, my hotel isn't far. I'm sure we can get up to a lot more fun there than we could here." Hinata's eyes sparkle at the possibility. "But first, let's gloat a little and tell people we're here together, hmm?" 

He whips out his phone at the same time that Hinata does, and it's by pure chance that they make the same ridiculous face. They manage to get each other into their own selfies, and when the picture is taken, Tooru's heart lightens at Hinata's face even at its most ridiculous.

Tooru wraps his arm around Hinata's waist as he leads the pair of them to the hotel, all while Hinata taps away at a LINE message to someone. They're almost at the hotel lobby by the time Hinata puts the phone away, and then it's Hinata's turn to pull Tooru towards the elevator. 

They're lucky when it arrives, because it's empty. As soon as the doors close behind them, they crash together, and Tooru pushes Hinata against the mirror along the back. The elevator itself moves slowly enough that Tooru can't easily feel its movement upward, but that's assuming that he can perceive anything other than Hinata's body, and the scent of sun-warmed sea salt. 

He's proven himself wrong, as the elevator doors open with a ding. Tooru pulls Hinata into the hallway, quickly digs out his room card to make sure he's leading Hinata in the right direction, and follows the signs towards his room. It's a twisting maze, but he finds the door, inserts the card, and opens it up. He motions for Hinata to enter the room, and just before he enters, Tooru sees one of his teammates leave their own room, take one look at him, and flash him a lewd gesture. He answers by flipping them off before closing the door behind him. 

Hinata grabs the front of Tooru's shirt, and uses the momentum to fall backwards onto the bed, pulling Tooru down on top of him. Hinata shimmies underneath him as he spreads his legs to allow Tooru to get in that much closer. He moans into Hinata's mouth at the contact. 

"Stop for a moment." It takes everything within Tooru to pause and physically tear himself away from Hinata, especially as he lays under him with ruffled hair and flushed cheeks. "I need to get some supplies." 

He runs over to where he stashed his suitcase, on the stand across from the bed. Tooru hastily opens the case, throws his clothing randomly onto the floor, and smiles as he finds the bottle he's looking for. It's partly used, but it's more out of frugality than anything: it's an old bottle, and he hasn't gone out of his way to find a bed partner for quite some time. 

Just as Tooru turns to face Hinata, bottle of lube in his hand, Hinata produces his own square foil packet. Tooru tosses the bottle onto the bed, takes off his shirt, and mumbles, "Fuck yes." 

It barely takes him two steps before Tooru's scoops Hinata into his arms. Hinata's shirt joins Tooru's on the floor behind him, and they both rush at removing each other's shorts. Tooru scrapes his fingernails along the ridges that are just starting to form along Hinata's abs, and he can't hold back the growl forming in his throat at the feel of sweat-tacky skin under his hands. Tooru pins Hinata to the bed, dipping his head to nibble and suck at his collarbone's ridge. 

Hinata lets out a sound, and pushes upward at Tooru. "Get up, I have an idea." 

There's several parts of Tooru that don't believe the words coming out of Hinata's mouth, but there's a certain fire in his eyes that makes Tooru want to comply. "Turn around," he commands. "Whatever happens, I need you to stay on your knees." 

Tooru turns to face the headboard, and Hinata shuffles his knees between Tooru's, forcing him to spread his legs to unbalance him. He falls backwards just enough that his ass grinds against Hinata's hard length. 

Just as he tries to push backwards to get some friction, Hinata pushes Tooru forward, so that he's forced to brace himself on his forearms. There's a click from opening a plastic lid, and one of Hinata's strong hands pushes Tooru into the mattress as his slick fingers circle Tooru's hole. 

He pushes back as he looks over his shoulder at Hinata, commanding, "Do it. I won't break." 

Hinata's breath hitches and he's clearly in that liminal space between dominating and overwhelmed. Tooru pushes back on fingers again, not breaking eye contact at all as the other man's fingers enter him easily. 

He removes his hand, and Tooru can't quite see what Hinata reaches for on the bed, but he guesses it's the condom that the shorter man must have thrown there earlier. A crinkling of the packaging and some rustling confirms his suspicion, and Hinata lines up the blunt head of his cock with Tooru's hole. 

Hinata presses in slowly but insistently, and he steadies himself by gently pushing on the dip in Tooru's back. Tooru braces his forehead against the back of his hands, gripping the bedspread as the stretch is nearly too much. "You're so tight," Hinata breathes out, completely wrecked, but Tooru doesn't trust his own voice to answer with anything except for a moan. 

It's an excruciatingly slow descent, and Tooru's ass burns deliciously with the stretch from a not-so-chibi cock nearly splitting him in two, but Hinata finally bottoms out, and draws gentle circles on Tooru's back with his thumb, waiting for a signal to keep going. Tooru looks back, makes eye contact, and pushes backward abruptly. Hinata barely manages to not topple over, and instead, smiles ferally at Tooru. 

Before Tooru can process anything else, Hinata pushes between his shoulders with his left hand, pressing Tooru to the mattress with enough strength that he can't hold himself up on his hands. His face presses up against the scratchy polyester hotel bedspread, and Tooru's sure that he's going to have red spider webs across his left cheek from being held in place. 

Just as Tooru gets used to the rhythm and can even start thinking about telling Hinata what to do, the smaller man grabs Tooru's cock in his hand, timing his thrusts to his strokes. Hinata doesn't fuck into Tooru at a breakneck speed, but the man is relentless, and each movement is carefully measured in a way that Tooru never expected. 

"Fuck, you feel amazing," Hinata sighs, as he groans with effort. Tooru remains incoherent, punctuating each thrust with an appreciative moan. Hinata's fingernails scrape against his back, and his grip tightens around his cock, but in this position, Tooru can't do anything but rock against Hinata in an attempt to take him further in his body. 

Hinata's hand curls into Tooru's hip, and his fingernails dig into the flesh. If he's spared finger-shaped bruises from Hinata's iron-clad grip, he's definitely going to have lingering half-moon indents. Either way, Tooru revels in the sensations. 

Hinata's thrusts become more erratic and strong, and the pressure in Tooru's groin tightens until it's nearly unbearable. Hinata twists his wrist just at the last moment before Tooru's vision goes blank and a wave of pleasure crashes over him. He releases first, painting the bed cover with white ropes of cum, and Hinata follows not long after. 

Far too soon, Hinata pulls out, leaving Tooru bereft of contact. Before he collapses onto the bed, he has the presence of mind to kick the dirty blanket onto the floor, and flops onto the hotel bed sheets face down. He's nearly drifted off to sleep when the mattress dips with Hinata's approach, laying his warm body over Tooru's as if he were a blanket. 

When Tooru wakes up, it's to an empty bed and an email notification about seeing each other again. 

* * *

When it comes time for the exhibition game, Tooru finds himself benched halfway through the second set for being distracted. He would normally be devastated at this turn of events, but he feels the ghost of sand particles infiltrating the tender skin he normally covers with boxer briefs from his and Hinata's victory celebration over those bastards on the beach. He can't help but smile at the memory of carding his hands through wavy, orange hair and Hinata's breath hot on his skin as he took him into his mouth. 

He feels the ghost of bedsheets pressed up against his cheek, pressure between shoulder blades from being held down against the mattress, and his skin ignites once again, as if Hinata's hands were there in person instead of a memory. He's always been greedy, and wants to keep the good memories to himself. There's an expiration date on whatever they can call this fling, and it's approaching rapidly. The physical marks that Hinata regularly leaves are hidden underneath his volleyball uniform, and despite the teasing from his teammates, Tooru answers their questions with a silent, wistful smile, and leaves the emails from Iwa-chan blissfully unanswered. 

His team wins, and rather than going out to celebrate with heavy drinking with the team, Tooru finds Hinata in his regular spot along Flamengo Beach. Hinata is decked out in a white ball cap and wearing sunglasses to block out the blazing sun, but his enthusiasm to play on the sand outshines even the most intense rays beating down on him. 

Hinata serves, the other pair receives, sets and spikes the ball until Hinata dives to dig the ball in a nice, high arc. His partner sets the ball passably to him, and Hinata kicks the sand to jump impossibly high and spikes the ball to the ground. By the time he lands, Hinata has scored the match point, and he lets out a triumphant victory cry. Hinata's at home with all the touching that comes more naturally to Brazilians and less to Japanese, and he claps the back of his partner on the sand. 

It doesn't take long for Hinata to notice Tooru standing along the edge, and his brilliant smile makes Tooru's heart skip a beat. He waves off his beach partner, picks up a delivery bag, and takes Tooru's hand in order to lead him away from the boardwalk. It's wonderfully normal, and if he didn't have to fly out the following day, Tooru is sure he would be over-the-moon happy at how comfortable Hinata is at displaying his affections. 

As it is, he has plans to savour whatever time he has left in Rio. Tooru spins Hinata around by pulling on their linked hands, and ignores the drenched, sweaty skin as he leans in for a soft, lingering kiss. Hinata pulls him in closer, dampening Tooru's clothing with his sweaty body, who recoils away from the sensation. 

Instead, he wordlessly leads Hinata to his hotel, a very familiar trip from his week here. 

Tooru pulls Hinata into the bathroom, turns on the shower, and lets it run in order to warm up. He begins to strip the sweat soaked clothing from the other's body, and kisses the saltiness along Hinata's steadily exposed skin as he pushes him back into the water stream. Hinata mirrors his actions, so that by the time the smaller man pulls Tooru into the water, they are at a similar state of undress. 

It's suffocating, standing in the stream closely enough that Tooru has to hold his breath in order to make sure that Hinata also gets a share of the water and Tooru gets to kiss him senseless. He's drowning in sensation, and likely in reality as well, but Hinata, in all his tan lines and short hair, has given him a renewed sense of purpose. 

It's Hinata who pulls away first, sputtering at the water blocking his breathing. Tooru lets out a single, guilty laugh, but he isn't allowed to let it grow into something capricious or mean, because Hinata reaches for the soap and is already lathering it across Tooru's skin. 

With the salt, sand and sweat fully washed off the two of them, Tooru leads Hinata towards the bed, and guides him down. Unlike earlier in the week, which was hot, heavy and full of desperation and a need for quick release, Tooru isn't pressed to rush anything. Instead, he runs his hand gently down Hinata's side, and holds him close with the arm he pins down.

Hinata hooks his leg over Tooru's hip, and nestles his nose into the taller man's chest. "You're flying out tomorrow." With the right inflection, Tooru could have mistaken this statement as a question, but Hinata's voice was dull and unflinching as he spoke the words. 

"Yeah, I am." Tooru's forced agreement doesn't change the fact that he doesn't want to go. He's half tempted to tank his own career to follow Hinata around, having come to the realization that since he first caught sight of him on the other side of the net in the Seijoh gym, it was likely always the case. 

Hinata wiggles under Tooru's embrace. "I just don't do well when it's long distance, and wanted to give fair warning." His voice is quiet, not at all like the man calling his name loudly in the night to the point where Tooru's teammates greet him with wolf whistles whenever they see him. He pulls Hinata closer, especially as he suspects that his dear kohai Kageyama had something to do with the situation. 

"How about this," Tooru presents in the most factual manner he could. "If we're both single when we run into each other then we can pick up where we left off. Otherwise, there's no pressure to save ourselves for each other." 

Hinata shuffles upwards until they easily look each other in the eye. He's smiling with every fibre of his being, and it's enough for Tooru's heart to lurch with pain at the sight. "I think that will work." 

Relieved, Tooru falls asleep holding Hinata close. 

* * *

Tooru rolls his suitcase across the uneven paving stones, and looks at Hinata, ready for work with his delivery bag slung across his back. He stops at the intersection, a red light blocking his path. "Take care of yourself, chibi-chan." Tooru smiles as he corrects himself. "Shouyou." He's no longer the fool he was in high school, just an upgraded breed ready to lay his life down for the redhead in front of him. 

Shouyou's eyes light up at hearing his given name, and before Tooru can fully comprehend the situation, Shouyou is crying his thanks towards him as he grasps his hand between both of his smaller ones. 

Tooru places his other hand on top of Shouyou's. "Thank you for giving me a second chance to play volleyball for the very first time." It's dangerous, this new honesty, but Tooru is already in a vulnerable spot in front of the small man in front of him. 

The light changes, and Tooru frees his hands to grab at his suitcase handle. "You're going back to Japan in two years?" Shouyou's eyes bore into his at the question. "Just remember, I'm going to beat everyone. Be ready." 

Tooru turns to cross the street, and despite Shouyou's obnoxious laugh, he can't turn around to watch. He would be risking his own promising career. 

Instead, he focuses on his phone for the first time that week, and instead of answering a wall of text, he opens up the dialer. 

"Shittykawa?" Iwa-chan picks up on the other end, and he sounds both relieved and confused. 

Tooru smiles into the phone. "Iwa-chan." 

He might not be able to describe what he's feeling, but with Iwa-chan as his friend, his platonic other half, Tooru doesn't need to. 


	3. slipping through my fingers all the time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pedro expects a quiet roommate, and gets anything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient! I had such a block with this that I'm just posting it now, 3 months after I started really going on about hinapedro. Now, it's here.
> 
> Things have finally started to normalize at work, and the hiatus I had to take is now over. Hopefully it won't take too much longer to write the rest!

March 2016

Pedro has always appreciated a quiet life. His main hobbies--manga, anime and video games--are best enjoyed solo, where he can take his time to appreciate the artistry and craftsmanship of the product. It could get lonely at times, but with Luffy, Deku and Goku by his side, Pedro is never truly alone.

The downside to having a manga habit is that it's expensive to buy books all the time, and it's hard to live in a large city alone on a university student's budget. Luckily for Pedro, his cousin dropped an idea into his lap; Lucio's new Japanese student needs a place to stay, and Pedro needs the income. The knowledge that Japanese people tend to be quiet and reserved was a bonus point, and Pedro's life would move forward relatively unchanged. He just might have a partner who can watch anime with him and let him in on where the subtitles go wrong. 

It's about a month later when Lucio brings around a young man, looking around the apartment with bewildered eyes. He looks like a protagonist straight from a shounen manga, complete with bright orange hair that would make him completely stand out at home. His eyebrows are the same colour as his hair, which is Pedro's clue that the colour was all natural and not just him playing with dye. His new roommate catches Pedro sizing him up, and he smiles as he rushes to pull out a piece of paper to read off of. 

His thick accent as he tries to speak words in Portuguese is so atrocious that Pedro manages to make out that he was named 'Hinata', and not much else. The look of confusion on Hinata's face at Pedro's own is a little heartbreaking, and Lucio mumbles something into Hinata's ear. Hinata nods at whatever he said, and he goes to drop his bag off into Pedro's spare room. 

It's pure bad luck, really, that classes start to get intense for Pedro just around the time that Hinata starts to stay out later after kicking the jet lag from his system. He does occasionally see the hurt expression on his roommate's face as he looks up from his manga, but it's clear that Hinata doesn't need Pedro for his social experience in Brazil--the mass of hickies on his neck in various stages of healing point to a mid-winter romance in the making. Instead, he turns back to Volume 72 of One Piece, eager to soothe his guilty conscience at not making friends right away by reading about Luffy and his own friends. 

Pedro doesn't have much of a break before Hinata noisily runs back into the kitchen, his de facto work area. He's excited and happy as he points to the first volume of One Piece, in Japanese. "Who is your favourite? Mine's Zoro." Hinata is slightly out of breath, and he speaks a little more loudly than really is necessary, but his Portuguese now has that bit of a Japanese accent that is understandable while being charming. That effect is only amplified by the excitement rolling off him in waves. 

He's a little flabbergasted, partly because of how quickly Hinata has improved his language skills, but also the fact that Pedro's intuition is turning out to be true--Hinata is relatively uninhibited, but he's also one giant nerd of a jock. It's hard for him to choose, but he's really only left with one choice. "Luffy. If I have to choose just one, it has to be him." It feels rather unfair to Zoro and the rest of the Straw Hat pirates, having to choose between treasured friends. 

Hinata is clearly excited, and he runs back to his room, coming back quickly with a pair of Dragonball DVDs. Just as Pedro reads the different language labels on the spines, he supplies, "These are my learning aids."

Pedro picks up the one labelled 'Portuguese edition', and flips it over to see which company dubbed it. Sure enough, it's the one that came out in Portugal and not the one that came out in Brazil, and it explains some of the difficulty he's had in understanding Hinata. He stifles a laugh as he hears the opera-singing Ginyu force in his head. Like they needed any help in being ridiculous villains. 

"I have some anime in Portuguese. They are Naruto and My Hero Academia." As he speaks Japanese, Pedro knows he's getting the timing off and he's stressing the wrong syllable in each of the words, but he had practiced these words in an attempt to make his theoretically shy Japanese roommate at home well before Hinata had arrived. 

The look on Hinata's face is blindingly bright, and Pedro has to hold back the urge to hold his chest as it grows tight at the wonderful sight. 

* * *

It turns into a routine. Pedro turns on a Portuguese dub, and the two of them would watch in relative peace. At first, there's enough room between them that Pedro can spread out completely and not get anywhere near Hinata's bubble. It's a gradual shift, but Hinata ends up inching closer to where Pedro always sits, who never really strays from that spot. By the time Hinata's knee hits Pedro's, he's become simply Shouyou and any thought of personal space has gone out the window as they share their first kiss and many others on that ratty couch as characters scream in the background. 

Pedro stretches his arm across the back of the couch, and Shouyou curls into his side. Tonight's offering is Naruto, and he daydreams of the possibility of painting a set of whiskers on Shouyou and calling it cosplay. Shouyou's legs are draped over Pedro's own, and this is comforting; it feels nice to have someone so close.

Shouyou taps away at his phone, but in the late evening, Pedro has learned to not be jealous of his friends back home. A twelve hour time difference is difficult to overcome, and Pedro is simply glad he doesn't have to deal with it on a daily basis. It does, however, bring the impermanence of their situation to his mind. Pedro is reminded nearly daily that Shouyou will return back to Japan at some point in the foreseeable future, and there is nothing he can do to stop it. Shouyou's body sprawled over his is enough to keep the worst of it at bay, but the sinking pit in Pedro's stomach is a new constant that he wishes would go away. 

He goes to pull Shouyou closer to him, an attempt to comfort the nagging insecurities eating away at his core, and that's when he sees the image out of the corner of his eye. It's not like Pedro goes around snooping around his boyfriend's business, but when he sees a picture of an exceedingly handsome, very clearly Japanese man stroking a decently sized and very hard cock, he flinches. Pedro must have moved more sharply than he had expected because Shouyou looks up at him, curious. 

Before Pedro can fully enter that zone of self-loathing and shame of being both betrayer and betrayed, Shouyou shuffled along the couch so that he curls up closer to him, until he can breathe in Pedro's ear. "He doesn't know about us, let's fix that." Shouyou's words hit the exact right spot to travel down Pedro's spine, and he's rendered motionless at the twin sensations of his emotional upheaval and Shouyou's general proximity. He sees the phone being raised in slow motion, but it's like Pedro is stuck in a time dilation field and can barely react to Shouyou kissing his cheek. 

Shouyou turns the phone so that Pedro can see a preview of the selfie, where Shouyou looks devoted and in love, and he looks hilariously flustered. Before Pedro can find his voice, Shouyou has sent it off with a proud look on his face. 

* * *

It's August, and the city's buzzing with tourists and athletes from across the world. It's Carnaval for the second time that year, made better by the fact he could share it with Shouyou. Despite Pedro's expectations, Shouyou is not bouncing off the walls with excitement. Even Pedro, a far from athletic man with even less motivation to support a sport, finds himself excitedly watching football in patriotic solidarity, and his boyfriend robotically delivers food for the masses. 

It's nearing half-time, and their apartment door opens earlier than Pedro expects. He peeks his head through the bedroom door, only to find normally tidy Shouyou simply drop his delivery bag on the ground in the entryway as he makes his way towards the bedroom. 

Shouyou has always been smaller than Pedro, but his presence always filled a room easily. Today, he's dull and withdrawn, and it sets Pedro on edge. 

"Do you think you could put on the volleyball game?" Shouyou fidgets in place, clearly nervous. "I don't want to watch it alone." 

Pedro clears some space off his bed, props himself up on some pillows, and switches to the completed stream of the game. He sets the laptop off to the side, and Shouyou leans back against Pedro’s chest. It’s enough that Pedro sets his chin on top of Shouyou’s short curls, just long enough for him to lean over and click play on the stream.

There’s the usual Olympic fanfare to the game, and Team Japan barely gets a glance as the commentators talk about their perennial Argentinian rivals in the quarterfinals. Even then, the only reason that Japan gets any notice is to list the starting line-up, and to note that the team in general is short compared to other teams in the tournament. They all tower over Shouyou, and Shouyou is loud and proud that he’s tall for an average Japanese man.

Shouyou doesn’t flinch through most of the introductions. The closest he comes to a strong reaction is an exclamation of joy when he sees the happy face of the broad man with the wild hair, or the half-hearted grumbling when he sees the equally broad but prodigiously stony face on their so-called star. It’s when they introduce the setter, a young, gloomy man wearing a number twenty on his jersey, that Shouyou stiffens, and his breath hitches until Pedro is worried about him being able to breathe.

There’s history, that much is clear: nobody tenses that much at the sight of someone unless there’s something deep and profound to colour their interactions. Once Shouyou takes a deep breath to begin breathing somewhat normally, he starts, “Kageyama and I used to date.” Shouyou shifts in Pedro’s hold, uncomfortable and embarrassed about having to talk about his ex. 

“Did it end badly?” If Shouyou’s going to open up about his more illustrious dating career, Pedro wants to get an idea of where the landmines are in the conversation. Shouyou may be his first and only, but he’s watched enough TV to see how things work.

Shouyou shifts against Pedro, so that his cheek presses against his chest. “Just that I was right and knew that twelve hours is a super large enough time difference to try and keep up with for years at a time.” Shouyou’s silence is thick with intended meaning intentionally left vague, and is only broken by a snort of laughter. Pedro feels the smile grow against his chest, and guesses that it has to do with the person who left all those hickies right before they got together.

Pedro quickly learns that there are three levels of volleyball fanatic. There’s the casual fan, the Pedro level so to speak, and while he has a grasp of the basic rules, the mental component and the strategy escapes him. There’s the avid fan, who can tell at the specific team’s rotation what everyone’s role is supposed to be on the court, and why that rotation works for those specific skills. Finally, there’s Shouyou level, where he points excitedly at the excellent plays on the screen, not caring if the words leaving his lips are in Portuguese or quick-fire Japanese. There’s nothing casual about watching volleyball with Shouyou.

Even with the excitement of watching volleyball, the string of extra long days in the midst of the Olympics catches up with Shouyou, and he falls asleep on Pedro's chest somewhere between the third and fourth set. Japan loses the game, and by the time the stream finally ends, Pedro's left hand tingles from Shouyou's weight, but he doesn't have the heart to move him. Instead, Pedro settles in for a sleepless night, cursing being a light sleeper as he listens to Shouyou mutter in his sleep, and twitch as he dreams of spiking volleyballs. 

* * *

When Pedro's mind is too busy to concentrate on schoolwork and readings, he turns to gaming streams. Not all of them are created equally, and Pedro quickly finds that there is one streamer in particular, Kodzuken, who helps him more than others. Kodzuken speaks solely in Japanese, but his voice is so soothing that it silences the worst parts of Pedro's brain, enough that he can get his work done, even as he destroys and dominates his opponents in Overwatch in barely a monotone or an expression on his face. All this while thumbing his nose at a conventional sleep schedule. 

Today's offering is Kodzuken playing Mario Kart with a guest, and the long time fans are going wild. Pedro can't read the characters in the chat, but Kodzuken sounds fond as his friend is yelling loud enough for his obviously cheap mic to peak more often than not. It's honestly adorable, and it makes Pedro want to continue on with Japanese lessons so that he can more fully understand the trash talking between the two. 

He takes off his headphones for a moment in order to get a drink, and that's when he realizes that those screams are familiar, and they're echoing from Shouyou's bedroom. Just as he hears a loud, "KENMAAA!" escape from the bedroom, he puts on his headphones to hear that exact same yell, delayed because of the stream. 

Is Japan really that small of a place, Pedro questions, or is Shouyou that personable of a man? It's just another stark reminder that Shouyou can easily find anyone to be with, and he's chosen Pedro, who will likely not even be in his life in five years time. He spirals enough that he can't finish his school work, or even finish the stream. Instead, he lays back on his bed and stares at the textured ceiling in his bedroom, connecting the dots until he sees his favourite shounen protagonists within them. 

The sun's about to go down by the time Pedro's door opens, and he doesn't move from where he's starfished on top of his covers, except for his right arm curled around his Tikachu plushie. Shouyou has always been good about knowing what Pedro needed, and so he curls up against his left side, draped over his body. The oncoming summer air makes their apartment feel that much more oppressive in November, but where their skin connects gives both of them energy that the heat can't sap. 

There's something soothing in Shouyou's body covering most of his own, and Pedro praises Jesus that his boyfriend is as hot as he is; every abdominal ridge is on display when he’s shirtless, and the muscles in Shouyou's biceps and thighs are growing larger and more defined. Despite Shouyou's efforts at the gym becoming more and more obvious, Shouyou's true strength as a lover is his attentiveness: every kiss he takes from Pedro reminds him that the hell his mother warned him of is on earth, it's with Shouyou, and there's no other place that Pedro would rather be. Pedro moans, and he scratches at Shouyou's back, but it doesn’t make Shouyou move any faster. If anything, Shouyou lifts just enough off Pedro to be maddening, and Pedro doesn’t have the strength to pull him back into where he was, where Pedro wants him to be. Instead, Shouyou flashes him a shit-eating grin.

Stupid sexy Shouyou.

Pedro whines needily as he nearly gives up in his quest to feel more and more skin against his own, and he has barely any warning before Shouyou braces himself on his forearms, and captures him in a hot kiss. He has the overbearing urge to live in the moment, _this_ moment, and Pedro brackets his knees on either side of Shouyou’s hips, and grabs each ass cheek. Pedro groans as he pulls Shouyou closer, until their clothed cocks graze against each other in delicious friction. 

It's a mutual thing, because just as Pedro reaches for the waistband of Shouyou's shorts, Shouyou reaches for Pedro's, knocking hands on the quest to remove clothing. 

Finally, they are skin-to-sweaty-skin, and Pedro bucks upwards into Shouyou's grip. He wraps his arms so that he can lean upwards, whispering into Shouyou's ear, "I want more." 

Shouyou pulls back, _runs_ out of the room, and is gone for long enough that Pedro begins to worry about whether his boyfriend would be coming back. Just as Pedro goes to reach for his cock to give himself the most unsatisfying sense of relief available to him, Shouyou returns with a bottle of lube and some condoms. 

Shouyou pauses, looking into Pedro's eyes for permission to move forward. It's infuriating, and Pedro pushes himself off the mattress to pull Shouyou on top of him, hoping he'd get the hint. 

He did: Pedro had a lot of trouble sitting normally the next day, and with every twinge in his backside, he smiles at Shouyou's performance the night before. 

* * *

There comes a time in a relationship where the small moments blur together until the only thing that differentiates them are the pictures taken during that time. Pedro is fond of pictures, so he takes many: Shouyou poorly copying the dance in the Sambadrome during Carnaval with the originator in the background, Shouyou napping on that ratty couch after a long day of work, Shouyou hunched over his phone with that small, secret smile that he never pointed in Pedro's direction. He tells himself that it's necessary for when, not if, Shouyou leaves, to have something to remind him of youthful love and a life not wasted. 

* * *

Shouyou leaves for the day, saying something about a local tournament on nearby Flamengo. For once, Pedro is caught up on his homework and readings, so he sets out a little bit later to go watch. He's been feeling guilty that he can't take the same level of interest in Shouyou's career as his boyfriend has taken in local architecture, but better late than never. 

Flamengo Beach is packed, but he recognizes Shouyou's partner's girlfriend sitting off the edge of the boardwalk with an excellent view of the match. Nice, he remembers, is as boisterous as she is pretty, and they got along well enough at a barbeque just a couple weeks ago. It was good to have someone to talk to whose life didn't revolve around volleyball. 

The small talk disappates as the opposite team serves the ball, and Pedro takes notice of his boyfriend in his element. He really is dwarfed by everyone out on the sand, but he commands everyone's attention. Shouyou gets under the ball, and it flies into a tall arc towards Heitor. Heitor sends it back to Shouyou, and the ball has enough of a wobble that even Pedro can pick it out. This doesn't faze Shouyou, as he kicks off from the sand and _flies._

Nice laughs as the ball slams into the sand neatly in bounds. A quick look around reveals that even among the hubbub of several beach courts running games at the same time, Shouyou's is drawing a decently sized crowd. As proud as Pedro is of his boyfriend, there's something that still steals the words to cheer him on like Nice is supporting Heitor. Instead, Pedro focuses his attention to matching Shouyou's daily descriptions to what he's actually doing with his body. 

Not that Shouyou makes it easy to focus on volleyball itself. Pedro is just as bamboozled as Shouyou's opponents by his athleticism, and it's easy to understand why he wins, because he is breathtaking on the sand. Sweat drips off his body, and Pedro has to adjust himself to make his interest less obvious. 

It's in the middle of the third set when Lucio finally arrives, and it's nice to have someone who actually knows the game and knows how Shouyou plays it be able to fill in the knowledge gaps that Pedro faces. As Lucio explains the depths of the mind games that Shouyou plays on the court and excels at, Pedro forces back a laugh that his brilliant boyfriend, demanding absolute attention on the sand, is the same person who asked if Sugarloaf Mountain was really made of sugar the last time they went drinking. 

As much as Shouyou presents a story that he wants the opposite team to follow in his schemes, Lucio points out that the lead opponent player is the sage to Shouyou's ninja, seeing through the mirage and into the truth of the situation. The truth is, Shouyou is still relatively new to beach volleyball, and Pedro has seen flashes of Japanese pro team websites on Shouyou's phone screen. He's always feared this specific moment coming to pass, but now that it has, he's numb to the whole situation. Instead, Pedro focuses on Shouyou setting beautifully to Heitor as the score another point.

In the end, Shouyou and Heitor lose the match by a slight point margin, and Nice proposes to Heitor in her typical, exuberant fashion. Shouyou isn't super subdued as Pedro has come to expect after losing a match, but there's a peace surrounding him that makes Pedro's heart sink. 

Shouyou has resolved to go back to Japan, and there's nothing that Pedro could do, or even would do, to stop it. 

* * *

Pedro makes his way through Galeão airport, keeping a full step behind the group gathered to see Shouyou off. Part of him wants to be alone with him, one last time, but in truth, it's far more comforting to shove the tears somewhere within him that numbs his whole experience. Instead, Pedro focuses on the grout lines on the tiled floor, pretending he's in a Star Trek holodeck before the program has started. 

Shouyou is talking to Lucio, who's simultaneously doling out some fatherly advice while talking about volleyball, but it fits: as Shouyou's other constant companion in a foreign land, he's the one who nurtured that hunger for volleyball. Pedro doesn't understand the full meaning of the specific words, but he doesn't have to. They have their own inside jokes, and Pedro has his. 

After a short bit of laughter, Shouyou turns to Pedro. There's a bit of a wobble to his smile that Pedro might not have been able to pick out had had they not been dating for almost two years. It's harder to hold back the tears that had been threatening to fall for the entire day, now that he has Shouyou's full attention. 

"Pedro," Shouyou begins. His voice is a little more quiet than normal. "Thank you for teaching me so much Portuguese." 

Pedro can't handle it any longer, he wraps Shouyou in a large hug, and the floodgates open until he sobbing into Shouyou's neck. It's Shouyou being considerate of the fact that Pedro has never been comfortable with PDA--minus that one, notable time at Heitor and Nice's wedding where they both got drunk and handsy--that he says the stupidest thing possible directly into Pedro's ear: "Remember to eat your vegetables." 

Pedro lifts his head, and cradles Shouyou's face in his hands. "I will." He speaks the words so softly that it's barely audible, but that doesn't matter, because he leans in for a kiss. 

He pretends that it's just the two of them on that couch, and that the shocked gasps mingled with Heitor and Nice's laughs are just another anime they're ignoring in favour of making out. Except in this alternate reality, there's no heat to their embrace, only a wistful goodbye. Pedro hopes that he can pour his long-standing wish to marry Shouyou into their goodbye, because he certainly feels it in return. 

When they finally separate, Pedro blurts out, "Don't forget to get Kodzuken's autograph!" Shouyou laughs at this, and detaches himself from Pedro's arms. 

Shouyou gives everyone a hug, and once every has had their turn, he bows to the assembled group, and yells, "Thanks so much!" While Pedro's tears had momentarily stopped, they started again by the time that Shouyou turned back to wave goodbye. 

A moment later, he's no longer visible, going through security. 

It's Nice who breaks the silence, and asks, "So what's Shouyou going to do once he gets back to Japan?"

Pedro wipes his face with the back of his hand as he pulls out his phone. "He's going to start Japanese pro tryouts. He's a complete unknown there, so he has to be the one to go to them." 

Just as Nice marvels at how Shouyou could be considered an unknown, Pedro pulls up the homepage for the team Shouyou had decided to go for first. MSBY, according to him, is one of the stronger teams in the league holding open tryouts, with the added bonus of his high school mentor being a regular on the team. What clinched the decision was Pedro's giggles at the Black Jackals being shortened to BJs on their merchandise. Far from being a negative, it only made MSBY Shouyou's first target. 

Satisfied that Shouyou would be okay, everyone leaves until it's just Lucio and Pedro standing in the middle of a crowded terminal. It's clear that Lucio doesn't want to be alone, and while Pedro is on the fence about needing space versus distracting himself from the pain, he doesn't mind his older cousin's presence. 

"It's going to be weird without Shouyou around," Lucio says, making his way toward the parking lot. "He's gotten all the students yelling mangled Japanese volleyball terms now." 

Pedro laughs. "At New Year's, when Oikawa came up? They got me to take a picture of them crouching by their sand mochi, which just ended up looking like piles of shit." Pedro pauses, before he continues. "I don't think his friends back home have let him live that one down." 

By the time they make it to Lucio's car, the sharp pain in Pedro's chest had dulled into an ache. It's going to be hard, yes, but it's not like Pedro didn't expect this pain. If anything, the pain was worth the ultimate happiness. 


	4. times are gone for honest men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakusa joins MSBY, and meets Hinata in person for the first time.
> 
> Written for Hinata Rare Pair Week day 4: You were really annoying and I never planned to fall for you yet here we are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *comes in late with tea*
> 
> I had a lot of life happen, and my health dipped a bit in the process. I'm mostly okay now, even if it's just pandemic fine. 
> 
> I finally got a monster of an update! 8.5k. At least I came back with something hefty.

May 2018

The only reason that he joins the Black Jackals to begin with, Kiyoomi tells himself, is because they’re a division 1 team who offered him a nice salary directly out of college. It’s not the fact that he’s expecting a zoo with Bokuto being on the team, or a mild amount of sexual harassment with Miya as the MSBY setter, but a pure matter of economics. He needs money to survive, and if he has managed to survive Motoya's meddling for the better part of a decade, he can survive this.

What he doesn’t expect is the appearance of Hinata at his first practice. Bokuto is beyond loud, declaring his admiration for his protege as he walks into the main training gym in Osaka. Miya is nowhere to be seen, likely sulking in the locker rooms because he’s not the one at the center of attention. In order to try and block out the growing amount of dissonant noise, Kiyoomi enters a split and bends over to rest his forearms on the floor in front of him. 

He's flexible enough that this motion barely garners a burn from his muscles being stretched to their limits, but that's not the point of his particular maneuver--he's simply preparing for practice so that the wrong motion won't take him out of the game. It's a matter of physics: the more flexible the joint, the more unstable its seating, leading to a higher risk of injury. It's something that Motoya--insensitive remarks and all--never needed to worry about, and therefore doesn't understand. 

Kiyoomi rises out of the stretch only to come face to face with Hinata, who is looking him over with a curiosity that's hard to place. "Sakusa-senpai, it's great to be on the same team as you." 

He's no longer the animated kid bouncing feverishly around the main arena in Tokyo, but Kiyoomi is sure there's still an underlying intensity underneath the serene exterior. 

"Okay, Mister 'I Got A Fever And Got Benched.'" 

Hinata's face takes on a slight shade of purple. "That was years ago! Plus, I've gotten better at taking care of myself." 

Kiyoomi doesn't need to hide his smile at teasing a now-yelling Hinata, because Bokuto comes to his rescue and proceeds to lead Hinata around his new training facility. 

While he changes into a new stretch, Kiyoomi takes a moment to look at how Hinata has grown. Back in high school, Hinata was a skinny kid who looked like a stiff breeze or a particularly strong spike would topple him over. If memory serves him well, the better Miya did just that in their second year. Now, what he hasn't gained in height, he's gained in muscle. And the muscle mass he's sporting now isn't to the level of setting off doping suspicions, it's at the level where it's nice. Really nice. 

Kiyoomi takes a moment to shift into a different stretch, one that takes his eyes away from his new teammate and how hot he is. It would not be professional to pop a boner in the middle of his first practice, after all. 

The drills they go through are standard, ones that Kiyoomi could do in his sleep. Still, there's the persistent feeling of being watched as they enter into a scrimmage. 

Kiyoomi is on the same side as Miya and a positive giant named Barnes, whereas Hinata is on the other side of the net with Bokuto and Tomas, who clearly doesn't get the rapid-fire jokes between Hinata and Bokuto. It's affording him the chance to watch Hinata through the guise of tracking his opponent's moves, and not because he wants to see Hinata in action. 

Thankfully, volleyball is seared deeply enough in Kiyoomi's bones that his body can't misbehave in the game that they're playing. But even so, Hinata is glorious to watch as he functions as the other side's setter. He doesn't outdo Miya, who despite his horrible personality, is spectacular at the position he's played for over a decade. But he's more than competent for the purposes of an emergency setter. 

Miya sets the ball a little too close to the net than comfortable, and while Kiyoomi is able to slam it down behind Tomas, it's not with his signature spin, leaving it easy pickings for Hinata to dig and make his own point. 

Just as Kiyoomi goes to give feedback to Miya at the end of the game, he's greeted with a shit-eating grin.

"You know I like it a little further away from the net." Kiyoomi simply states a fact. 

Miya leans in just far enough to count as conspiratorial without actually popping Kiyoomi's personal bubble. "Ya know, if ya weren't checkin' out Sho-kun there, ya'd know I was settin' perfectly for ya the entire time."

That bastard. 

"I mean, he's really nice ta look at." 

Kiyoomi tunes out the rest of whatever drivel is coming out of Miya's mouth, opting to leave the training facility by shooting rude gestures in Miya's direction any time a noise escapes his lips. 

* * *

The novels that Kiyoomi had read in his literature courses at university describe love at first sight as an instant where everything coalesces into a singular spark, that permeates the few moments that render a person changed and enchanted. He’s certainly had moments where someone has shown their potential as a kindred spirit in a moment or less, such as using handkerchiefs or lint rollers where others have not, but he wouldn’t classify that as ‘love at first sight.’ No, Kiyoomi’s interest in Hinata is simultaneously sudden and predictable, considering his previous interests.

Kiyoomi is doing some solo passing practice during some downtime and Hinata is standing across the net from him, yelling at Miya for sneezing on the ball and not bothering to clean it up. Just as Miya is about to throw the ball into Hinata’s face for questioning him, Hinata pulls him along towards the edge of the gym, and he produces a travel package that Kiyoomi recognizes from experience as sanitizing wipes. Hinata takes his time in wiping down the ball, and it's truly a breath-taking sight--he's one of very few people who would do this unprompted and without Kiyoomi glaring in his direction. 

Just as Hinata finishes his task, he bounces the ball off of Miya's forehead, while Kiyoomi misses his first pass in about a thousand-long streak. It's heartening to see someone be as diligent as he is without prompting, and Kiyoomi's cheeks flush with excitement. The now-clean ball arcs nicely in Hinata's direction and minus a grease patch from Miya's face and hair, it's exciting to know something is marginally clean, and not by his own hand. If he were a comic book character, Kiyoomi’s sure he would be surrounded by sparkles right about now. 

Later that night, Kiyoomi lets out an extended groan, his vision blanking out as he props himself up on the shower wall. Visions of Hinata, all muscly and sweaty, dance across the backs of his eyelids as paints the wall white with his release. 

It's been a long time since Kiyoomi’s resorted to being a gross teenager, but today, it's needed. 

* * *

It's about three weeks into pre-season, going into a string of rest days, when Hinata practically skips over to Kiyoomi before making his way to the locker room. 

"You played really well today." Hinata fidgets with his hands even more than normal, even as his voice stays calm. 

Kiyoomi is in the middle of donning his mask by touching it the least amount possible, and he releases his pinkies from the earloops securing the mask to his face and sighs. "What do you want."

Hinata's hands are contorted to the limits of even Kiyoomi's flexibility as he holds his breath. He blurts out something that Kiyoomi has no hope of guessing their meaning, but even anxiety is a good look on Hinata. 

Kiyoomi raises his eyebrows and he scoffs under the mask. "You may want to slow down and try that again." 

Hinata takes a deep breath, and Kiyoomi leans downward, curious. The Hinata that he knows is brash, and nervousness isn't part of his limited vocabulary. The man in front of him is nothing like Kiyoomi expected, except for the dawning realization that he should expect the unexpected from him. 

"The rest of the team's going out for some dinner, and I'd really like it if you came along too." Hinata looks expectantly at him. Even though his stock answer is 'no' to any outings like this--too much potential for germs getting into his food--the sparkle in Hinata's eyes is almost enough for him to cave. 

Almost. 

Instead, he goes for a not-untrue story. "My cousin is coming shortly after practice." This kind of thing was more Motoya's wheelhouse, but what he doesn't know won't hurt. 

Hinata perks up. "They can come too!" It's like he didn't expect for that to escape his mouth, and he quickly adds, "if they want to." 

Kiyoomi is glad that his mask hides the majority of the smile forming across his face. "I'll ask him. No promises though." 

He doesn't have to ask Motoya, because he's always been more amenable to people in general. 

* * *

Putting Motoya in front of Kiyoomi's current fixation with booze around him is probably the worst idea that he's come up with minus his decision to bypass tryouts and go with a financially safe team. No, Motoya is perceptive and Kiyoomi is glad that he's not drinking any alcohol so that if his cousin gets too annoying, he can drop him in the worst part of Osaka and hope he can't charm his way out of it.

Hinata is vibrating in his seat as he looks between Kiyoomi and Motoya. "I didn't know you two were cousins," he exclaims. 

Motoya smiles into his drink. "Yeah, he's like the brother I never had." 

"I've got too many siblings as it is, I don't need another one." Kiyoomi tries to keep the pout out of his voice, but a glance over at Hinata makes it so that he's sure he's failed. 

What it does accomplish is bringing his attention to the glass in front of Hinata, filled with water instead of the beer and sake flowing freely elsewhere. "You're not drinking," Kiyoomi points out. 

Hinata laughs. "I try not to? It's a special occasion-thing more than anything." 

Just as Kiyoomi wonders if Hinata could be any closer to being the most perfect thing in Japan, Motoya laughs to himself. 

"Here's a translation into Sakusa speak: he really likes you and wants to get into your pants." 

Motoya can't dodge Kiyoomi's bony fingers fast enough as they jab into his side at lightning speed. There's a moment of unadulterated fear that flickers across Motoya's face as he topples backwards but he recovers quickly, moving closer to where Miya and Bokuto are currently racing to see who can drink their beer the fastest. 

"Methinks he doth protest too much."

This time, when Kiyoomi aims towards his cousin, Motoya dodges gracefully out of the way, and claps Miya across the back to make him lose. Hinata laughs at the mess all over him as Miya roars his discontent at Motoya. 

But with Motoya over at the other end of the table, Kiyoomi loses his security blanket for socializing, and he grips his glass of water until his knuckles lose all colour. He looks blankly towards the center of the table.

Hinata does his best to contort his body so that he can make eye contact but Kiyoomi evades his attempts easily, opting to take a drink of water instead in order to calm his heart rate. Hinata declares to himself, "You need to get out of here." 

It's music to Kiyoomi's ears, and Hinata rises from the table at the same time as him. "Bokuto-san, I need that favour now, can you pick up tonight for me?" 

Bokuto gives out a drawn out sigh, and all eyes are on Hinata as he puts his body between the team and Kiyoomi. Only Miya isn't looking at Hinata, he's looking at Kiyoomi with shrewd eyes, but he lets them leave without a comment. 

When they get outside, Kiyoomi puts on a mask and breathes in the protected air, and it calms his frazzled nerves as he leans on his car. Hinata smiles softly at him. His anxiety must have been that evident. Kiyoomi needs to get better at hiding it. 

"My roommate in Brazil was the same way, you know." Hinata's voice cuts through his reverie like a razor. "He didn't do well in large social situations either. I learned how to tell early so I could bail him out then too. Don't worry; you weren't too obvious." Hinata's smile is wide, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Do you miss Rio?" Not that Kiyoomi has asked what happened since they both graduated high school, but it's hard to miss Bokuto proudly yelling Hinata's achievements from across the gym. 

Hinata's face softens into a smile that Kiyoomi could never consider as something fully happy, and he leans on the car just beside him. "There are things I miss about Brazil. Just like there were things I missed about Japan when I was there."

Kiyoomi takes a good look at the pavement near his feet as he processes how Hinata dodged the bulk of his question in the sneakiest way. Just as the silence approaches uncomfortable, Hinata elbows Kiyoomi. "So, was what Komori said true?" 

Kiyoomi spins around toward Hinata, startled at the question. Motoya is a meddler of the highest pedigree who can read him easier than a children's storybook, and Kiyoomi feels like committing a homicide as soon as his limbs cooperate again. But Hinata leans in, just enough to be a bother but not so close that Kiyoomi is truly distressed. The look on his face is a playful, challenging one, biting down on his bottom lip. There's very little holding Kiyoomi back. 

The hesitation makes Hinata's smile fall just enough that Kiyoomi finds himself moving forward without any thought. In a moment of pure recklessness, he rips down the mask from his face, and cradles each side of Hinata's head, and pulls him in for a kiss. 

Hinata's lips are slightly wet from biting them despite being slightly chapped, but they're only still for a moment before he returns the kiss. He takes control and Kiyoomi is pushed against his own car, Hinata filling every sense that he possesses so that he's drowning in the surge of pleasure. He only detaches himself from the kiss to let out a moan as Hinata's leg grazes against Kiyoomi's ready cock in a move to get closer. 

"I don't live far away." It's Kiyoomi's sincerest hope that Hinata picks up on what he means. The answering smirk is definitely the response he's looking for. 

The drive to Kiyoomi's apartment is full of frustration, as he could only spare his left hand to explore underneath the hem of Hinata's shirt as he navigates the dark streets of Osaka. Thank goodness for an automatic transmission and relatively few people out on the road, because Hinata's skin is intoxicating like the drink Kiyoomi never had at the izakaya. 

If Kiyoomi's car is crooked in his parking spot, he doesn't care. The only thing he can process is trying to get Hinata into his apartment as quickly as possible. 

It's a miracle that Kiyoomi keeps his hands off Hinata in the maze that takes themto his apartment. Hinata's hands crawl up Kiyoomi's arm as the elevator makes the excruciating climb to the twenty second floor, and it takes everything within him not to jump him right then and there. 

The elevator dings, and Kiyoomi pulls Hinata through the open doors. His apartment isn't far, but he still has to unlock the deadbolt. The adrenaline coursing through Kiyoomi's body makes his hands shake just enough to make retrieving his keys a pain. Despite this, Kiyoomi manages to open the door and admit them both. 

There's no hesitation in Kiyoomi's movements as he peels Hinata's shirt from his body, and he goes to lean downwards to try and recapture what connection they had as they left the team behind. Hinata ducks away, and instead drops to his knees as he slips his fingers under Kiyoomi's clothing. 

Hinata clearly knows what he wants, and wastes no movements to get there. Kiyoomi's jeans only make it as far as his thighs but even mostly covered, Kiyoomi is laid bare before Hinata's examination. 

The only reason that Kiyoomi realizes that Hinata has even cursed is feeling his breath on his cock, stronger than a simple exhaled breath would ever accomplish. This is his only warning before Hinata licks a stripe up the length, and engulfs the tip with his lips. 

Kiyoomi doesn't have far to fall before his back rests against the genkan wall, which takes over the job of keeping him upright. Hinata's arm does the rest of the work, bracing him upwards as his head spins with pleasure. He runs his fingers through Hinata's hair and it takes a lot of effort not to pull on the strands or push Hinata's head further down his cock. No, Kiyoomi focuses on the warmth and pressure that Hinata's mouth gives, which is utterly divine. 

It doesn't stop the nagging thought at the deep corners of his mind, reminding him that Hinata's likely dropped to his knees for tons of people, that there's no way that Kiyoomi is special. But then Hinata does something with his tongue that puts that negativity out of his mind, and Kiyoomi is incapable of caring. 

He lifts Hinata off his cock and to his feet. He's still breathing heavily and once they're eye-to-eye, Kiyoomi just declares, "Bed." 

Hinata's pupils dilate, and a predatory smile creeps across his lips. Kiyoomi doesn't bother to close his jeans, he just pulls them up far enough that he won't trip over the pant legs as he moves through his apartment. He definitely does not put away his outdoor shoes in an orderly fashion. 

Hinata is half a step behind Kiyoomi as he twists through his apartment's layout. It's not a long trek to his bedroom but there are a couple of barriers to it that he didn't consider would be deal breakers when he signed the lease a couple of months ago. 

Once in sight of the bed, Hinata takes control and pushes Kiyoomi onto the mattress. He is like a wild animal and Kiyoomi is far from being the one in the driver's seat but judging how his cock is leaking, he's far from flagging in enthusiasm. 

Hinata makes quick work of Kiyoomi's clothing, and before he can get used to the chilled air around his skin, Hinata is back on top of him. He pauses at the apex of this movement, a silent moment of questioning where Hinata's softness comes through in an expectant expression. But Kiyoomi snakes his hand upwards along Hinata's muscular arm, and he captures him into a feral, wild kiss that brings Hinata to his elbows, down from being propped on his hands. 

Even this movement isn't close enough for Kiyoomi's liking, so he hooks his leg around Hinata's and rolls him over: the upside to having a queen sized bed. He reaches into his night stand, and it's due to his minimalistic nature that Kiyoomi quickly finds the condoms and lube in the drawer. Hinata grabs at the lube quickly and gets to work. 

It's a generously sized dollop, and Hinata doesn't waste any time. Kiyoomi clenches at the cool temperature of the lube, but Hinata leans up and gently kisses him until he relaxes into something  _ really _ nice. Kiyoomi is putty in Hinata's hands, and even though he towers over him and has him pinned to the bed, Hinata makes sure that he knows exactly who is in charge. 

Hinata leaning up to whisper, "You're so beautiful," in a low, smooth voice, makes Kiyoomi clench his fists in an effort not to come. It also reminds him that Hinata never plucked the condom out of his hand, just the lube. Kiyoomi rips open the package, quickly rolls it down Hinata's cock, and leans into it. 

It's difficult--Hinata is the same size as Wakatoshi despite being at least twenty kilograms lighter and roughly fifteen centimetres shorter--but he rubs circles along Kiyoomi's thigh as he strokes his own length with the rest of the lube. It gets so that Hinata's hand is an impediment to Kiyoomi fully taking him in, so he gently strokes Kiyoomi's cock as he slowly descends. 

The burn of anticipation is nearly as bad as the burn from the stretch, but Hinata goes glassy-eyed as Kiyoomi reaches the bottom and gives a teasing clench inside. It's a shuddering moan, and it's a delicious thing to hear. 

Kiyoomi moves slowly, and Hinata's answering groans are in time with the rhythm he's setting with his hips. A single roll is enough to keep Hinata in place and Kiyoomi balances by gripping the headboard. 

It doesn't take long, especially when Hinata's moving his hands in sync with Kiyoomi's movements, for Kiyoomi to go over the edge. In other situations, the fact that he didn't last long would have been something to be ashamed of; Hinata's hands are just that magical. 

But no, Kiyoomi fights through his hypersensitivity as Hinata flips him over and rammed into him as hard as he can. His knees are level with his ear, and the sight of Kiyoomi's flexibility is enough for Hinata to follow shortly after. With a low groan, far deeper than Kiyoomi has ever heard Hinata's voice become, he pulses into Kiyoomi until he finally collapses.

Hinata's body heat soothes Kiyoomi's overheated skin and it's a relief to lay there, motionless except for the two of them panting to catch their breath. Kiyoomi doesn't move his legs down except to flop them against the bedding, but he does wrap his arms across Hinata's shoulders. For a moment, Kiyoomi can't care about anything except the man using him as a pillow. 

The moment breaks, and Hinata pushes himself off Kiyoomi. He grimaces as he looks down at his stomach, which is covered with the mess Kiyoomi made earlier in their exertions. It looks good on him, even though the half left on Kiyoomi's abdomen starts to congeal and flake and just generally be uncomfortable. 

Hinata stands and trips into the wall as he tries to regain balance. It takes a couple of steps before his legs cooperate on his trip to the bathroom. Kiyoomi hoists himself off the mattress and fights through the lightheadedness that's part and parcel with standing up too quickly. A moment later, Kiyoomi is steady enough to join him. 

He must have an atrocious sense of direction, because Hinata finds the bathroom just as Kiyoomi leaves the bedroom. Hinata turns on the light just as Kiyoomi pads through the doorway, and drapes his arms around him. 

Hinata is stretching out his neck, looking in the mirror for something, possibly marks that Kiyoomi left in the heat of the moment. "You paranoid?" Kiyoomi reaches down, and cradles the curve of Hinata's ass within his hands. 

"A little, maybe." Hinata's smile is strained and only partly there. "Japan is different than Brazil, and even there, I got made fun of for visible marks." 

A quick once-over later, and Kiyoomi can't find any that he left himself. "I can't see any myself." 

Hinata spins around to face him, a finger pointed in Kiyoomi's face. "As long as there's none that people can see in the locker room, I'm okay with it." 

"But you strip down naked in the locker room." 

Hinata laughs. "Exactly. Now hand me a towel so we can get cleaned up." 

* * *

Hinata never asks what their label is, and Kiyoomi never offers the question. It's a new routine, though, that Hinata follows Kiyoomi back to his car after practice more often than not. It quickly turns somewhat close to domestic, as domestic as fucking over every surface in Kiyoomi's apartment can be. 

Though, more often than not, it's intimate but platonic. Hinata has small items stashed around the place, an indication of how often he stays over. Kiyoomi's favourite place to be is on the couch, laying his head in Hinata's lap as he watches TV mindlessly. Hinata would often be on his phone. He wasn't shy about sharing what was sent to him, but Kiyoomi really didn't care about how Hinata's friend in Argentina had a new boyfriend, or how Glasses reminded him of a derpy dog. He kind of listened in when it came to his adventures in Rio, but when Hinata absently plays with his hair, words don't land in his brain, Kiyoomi is only aware of the peaceful sound of Hinata's voice.

It's not Hinata absently running his fingers through Kiyoomi's hair that ultimately wakes him up, it's the incessant buzzing coming from his phone that does the trick. He quickly flips over the device to find Motoya calling him, which is something that is rare in and of itself. His immediate thought goes to their shared family, and whether something bad happened.

"What's wrong?" He's answered by a wheeze, as Motoya struggles to respond. 

"Are you okay?" Kiyoomi sits up quickly, nearly knocking Hinata's phone out of his hand. He grows more concerned, because even though Motoya meddles and is a menace, he is also family who cares about him as a person and is therefore tolerable. 

An audible laugh finally escapes through the phone call, and Motoya answers, "You need to put me on speakerphone so I can hear your reaction live to the link I just sent you."

Kiyoomi's phone dutifully vibrates as soon as Motoya says those words, so he sits up and complies. 

The link is to a Twitter account, and if Kiyoomi didn't possess the reliable memory that MSBY is learning that he has, he could have sworn that the man in all these pictures was him. As it was, he couldn't quite place the surroundings except as not in Tokyo or Osaka. 

"Is that Sendai?" Hinata curls up against Kiyoomi's shoulder as he looks at the screen. 

Kiyoomi turns towards Hinata just as Motoya hums in interest at hearing his voice. Ignoring this, he goes on to explain, "See this here? That's clearly the castle ruins." 

It only takes a few flicks for Hinata to point out another famous landmark. 

Hinata squints at the time, and mutters, "I think he'll be awake," under his breath. To Kiyoomi, he just says, "Give me a moment, I think I know someone who can help figure out who this guy is." 

A quick peep over the top of Hinata's phone shows that it's his friend in Argentina. "You two seem pretty close."

Hinata locks his phone, and looks at Kiyoomi, and shakes his head. "I told you already, he was my rival in first year, we had a thing in Rio, and since I don't do long term relationships, we stayed friends instead. Plus," Hinata adds, with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "his boyfriend's name is Jorge, and it's a thing because Oikawa gets to call him 'whore' every time he calls his name. He's a giant child." 

Before Kiyoomi can mention that Hinata is trying to throw him off track, Hinata's phone buzzes in response. Hinata quickly unlocks his phone, and in reading the response, his jaw drops. "NO WAY!" Kiyoomi crawls upward just as Hinata starts laughing, and Motoya is screeching at them to let him know what's going on. 

"In first year, at nationals, I was asked to picture the scariest middle blocker I could think of. There were a lot that I could choose from, but this guy was the most annoying, because he wouldn't block straight on. He'd force me into a spot which they had covered." Hinata looks at his phone, and laughs incredulously. "According to Oikawa, this guy's favourite hobby in high school was annoying him, but he's an overall good guy." 

"Mystery solved! Just an internet troll then." Motoya says his goodbyes, and Kiyoomi's phone turns itself off. 

"You never told me about the true nature of your friendship with Oikawa." Kiyoomi's shoulders remain tense. 

Hinata looks confused. "I told you weeks ago. You nodded along like you understood." 

"No I didn't." Kiyoomi has a reliable memory, he would remember if they had such a monumental conversation. 

Hinata looks at Kiyoomi like he's an opponent across the net, with that unreadable, calculating expression. There's a moment of silence that stretches on too long before Hinata hoists himself off Kiyoomi's couch. "I should be going." 

This isn't part of their routine. Hinata would often stay overnight, he would cook, Kiyoomi would give pointers on how to do it more efficiently, then clean. Finally, they would fuck until Kiyoomi's brains dribbled out of his ears. No, by the time Kiyoomi has processed that Hinata has his shoes on and his practice bag slung over his shoulder, his hand is on the doorknob. 

"See you at practice, Omi-san." 

With that, Kiyoomi is left with nothing but to stew in his own thoughts. 

* * *

He's nearly late for practice, but Kiyoomi still makes it into the gym before Coach yells at him, which he considers a win. Most of the team is already warming up, but there are notable absences among them. Still, Kiyoomi holds his head up high and makes his way to the locker room. 

He hears the chatter before the door behind him closes and alerts the occupants of the room to his presence. The remnants of laughter stop immediately, and Kiyoomi looks around to find Miya and Hinata the only occupants of the room. Hinata looks at him with feigned surprise, and Miya regards him with thinly veiled disgust. It's a situation that Kiyoomi is determined to confront head on, once his mind is clear. There's nothing that removes distractions like volleyball. 

Even though Kiyoomi moves to the opposite end of the gym for drills, and goes into the weight room first under the pretense of not having to spend as long disinfecting the free weights, Hinata still searches him out. "We should talk--" 

"No." What Kiyoomi needs is to concentrate on his form. Having his motions out of place even a millimetre or two could be enough to undermine his wrists, and keep him out of the game permanently. It would also keep him away from Hinata: Kiyoomi would rather deal with the consequences later and preserve his joint health. 

Hinata breathes in deeply, furious look on his face, before he catches up with Bokuto across the weight room. 

Kiyoomi has his wish: he's left in peace. Meian looks over at him curiously, and Miya is still shooting death glares at him when he's sure Kiyoomi's looking. Hinata, however, is laughing as he does something stupidly acrobatic, something reminiscent of a playground between small children as he  _ plays _ with Bokuto. 

There's nothing past this portion of practice, and one part of Kiyoomi wants nothing but to flee this uncomfortable situation. Another part, the more rational part, knows that by apologizing Hinata might want to be around him again. Kiyoomi also doesn't want a full audience, whether it's someone who has no discretion (Bokuto) or someone who will use the information for blackmail (Miya). So he sets about sanitizing the weights, and takes his time about it. 

There's something about cleaning that has always soothed Kiyoomi's mind. He sits cross-legged in his corner, comfortable on the impact flooring in their weight room. He loses time in the methodical motions to get access to every surface, especially the weights' grips. He's nearly finished wiping down all the dumbbells when he's surprised by a tap on his shoulder. Kiyoomi leans in. "We need to talk, but I only have two more. Can you wait until then?" 

Hinata crouches down beside him, and takes his own wipe. It makes a quick task even quicker with two, and it still makes Kiyoomi's heart soar just that tiny bit when Hinata cleans to his standards. 

Instead of a shower in the locker room, Kiyoomi just changes into his street clothes. It's approaching the full heat of summer, so it's not too much of a hardship to shower at home. Hinata just raises his eyebrows in surprise, but he follows suit. It still doesn't stop Miya from trying to barge in and Hinata silently arguing with him in order to get him to stop. 

Kiyoomi puts his hand around Hinata's shoulder, and pushes him toward his car. Once he's sure that Miya isn't going to follow them, he drops his hand from Hinata's shoulder. "Look, I was an asshole." 

"Yep, you were." Hinata's voice is overly cheery considering the mood. 

It sets Kiyoomi on edge. "You don't have to phrase it that way. I know I should have been listening, but the way you stroke my hair makes it difficult to focus on anything else." 

There's a moment of silence as Hinata tilts his head to the side and stares into him with a gaze that sees everything and nothing all at once. It's that expression that Kiyoomi has only seen on Hinata in the middle of a particularly tough practice game, and it never fails to send a shiver down his spine. But the moment breaks, and Hinata opens the passenger side door with a smile. 

The radio does a wonderful job of cutting through the lingering awkwardness in the silence. Even through the white noise of the news announcer, Kiyoomi needs Hinata's touch to calm his racing heart, and reaches across the console. Hinata's fingers interlock with his own, even as they gently move as he fidgets in place. 

Kiyoomi has to remove his hand in order to park the car and make his way into the apartment, but Hinata isn't far behind. Instead of the small talk that fills the air during this familiar trek, the silence is suffocating. As Kiyoomi pulls out the keys to the apartment, he turns around to find Hinata looking around at the surroundings. 

As soon as the door opens, Hinata slips inside before Kiyoomi can step in. He sets his shoes neatly to the side of the genkan, and puts on the slippers he personally brought to keep at Kiyoomi's place. Everything has its spot, and Hinata has worked his way into Kiyoomi's life nearly seamlessly. It occurs to him that they haven't talked about what label their relationship falls under, but Kiyoomi knows that he's serious about this, and wants Hinata to feel the same. 

There's leftovers that just need to be reheated, so as Kiyoomi gets things underway, he also puts his bag away, in its own spot. He also can't bear to be away from Hinata's touch for long, so as he sits to eat his food, his free hand strokes along Hinata's leg. Hinata's expression is unreadable, but it isn't long before both of them finish their food. 

After putting the dishes in the sink, Kiyoomi caresses both sides of Hinata's face, before leaning into a kiss. There's nothing hurried about it: Kiyoomi takes his time, and tries not to melt on the spot. It's not helping Hinata though, because he reaches upwards, and rests his entire body weight against Kiyoomi's chest. 

Kiyoomi isn't a slouch when it comes to strength, and it only requires a single step backward in order to keep upright under his own weight as well as Hinata's. He's utterly tender in this moment, a complete contrast with normal as Hinata likes to use just enough teeth to be interesting.

He pulls away from Hinata for just long enough to whisper in his ear, "Let's go to bed." Hinata's arms withdraw, and Kiyoomi takes him by the hand and leads him forward. 

In most of their previous encounters, there's an element of urgency that fills every moment until they both climax. Kiyoomi deliberately draws things out, slowly stripping Hinata of his clothing, a promise to be there for Hinata despite everything. Even though the fighting and the awkwardness, Kiyoomi has never felt better than when he's around Hinata, and wants it to continue. 

Even though hanging out with both Miya and Bokuto causes Hinata to drop several IQ points in the midst of a joke, Kiyoomi would be a fool to think that Hinata is an idiot. Even though it doesn't seem like it, Hinata always watches and adjusts his behaviour accordingly. He follows Kiyoomi's lead, slowly and tenderly removing each article of clothing until they both are laid bare for each other. 

A small voice in the rear of Kiyoomi's mind rears its ugly head, as it wonders whether or not this moment is as special for Hinata as it feels for him. He shuts it up by sitting on the edge of the bed, motioning Hinata forward to stand between his legs. Now, it's Hinata that has to lean downwards into the kiss and Kiyoomi has to crane his neck upwards, and there's something that feels nice in this reversal. Even if Hinata doesn't make Kiyoomi feel like he's incomparable, at least he can make this memorable for both of them. 

Hinata climbs on top of him, and straddles his thighs. He pushes Kiyoomi's chest lightly, more to hint that he wants Kiyoomi to lay back on the bed. As Hinata leans forward to reach where Kiyoomi stores his lube and condoms, his cock dangles enticingly above Kiyoomi's face. It's not anywhere near fully engorged, a half chub at best, but it's still something that. Kiyoomi wants as he reaches upwards to give it a lick. 

Not that he gets the chance. Hinata sits back down into Kiyoomi's lap, and pulls his hand from its resting place by Hinata's knee, until his hand is palm-up in between them. Hinata squeezes the bottle until lube nearly overflows on Kiyoomi’s fingers, and then places the hand behind him. 

Everything up to this point had been wordless and nearly silent, but when Kiyoomi circles the edge of Hinata's rim, he has to bite down on Hinata's collarbone as he hears a curse muttered under breath. This is not a position that Hinata offers often, but damn, if Kiyoomi's not going to look at ulterior motives behind this gift. 

He still takes things unbearably slowly, so that Hinata melts in Kiyoomi's hands despite a single finger penetrating him. It's the least he can do to show the care that he feels, even if Kiyoomi can't physically speak the words at that present moment. No, Kiyoomi is tender in a way that Hinata is often not, in his rush to get pleasure as quickly as possible, and skillfully on top of that. 

It's a lot easier to find what he's looking for with two fingers, and Kiyoomi thanks whatever gods exist that his fingers are as flexible as they are. It's a different texture, but as Kiyoomi massages that spot persistently, Hinata bucks into him. It's a heady feeling, to have that much power in his hands, but somehow, it feels right in the moment. 

Not that the moment lasts long. Hinata leans forward, reaching for the condom just behind Kiyoomi. It's a quick matter to tear open the packet and roll it down Kiyoomi’s cock, before pausing. He looks deeply into Kiyoomi’s eyes, searching for something, a silent permission. 

It comes in the form of Kiyoomi lining up his cock with Hinata's entrance, and he doesn't waste time sinking down on it. Kiyoomi wants nothing more than to whisper sweet nothings into Hinata's skin, but there's something entancing about the lack of noise between them. Just the noises of exertion as Kiyoomi clings to Hinata and licks the sweat pooling in the hollow at the base of his neck. 

Hinata bottoms out, and he immediately begins to speed up his motions. Calmly, Kiyoomi places a finger over Hinata's lips, shushing him until his body slows. Under Kiyoomi's guidance, Hinata lays down on the bed, nestled in front of him: it's a perfect fit. Kiyoomi lines his cock up to Hinata's entrance, and pushes in. 

They're a tangle of limbs, and Hinata is at a distinct disadvantage as he tries to turn around and capture Kiyoomi in a kiss. He even tries to move his hips so that Kiyoomi would move faster, but Kiyoomi uses his still-slick hand to work Hinata's cock, effectively limiting his range of movement. Instead of the fight that Kiyoomi half-expected, Hinata leans his head back onto Kiyoomi's shoulder and rides the sensations. 

Kiyoomi coordinates the movements of his hips and his hand and even though it never speeds up, the soft moans coming from Hinata's lips simply serve to remind him that there is no other place he would like to be in the moment. There's no rush in his actions, just the relentless, methodical push forward until Hinata melts like putty under heat. 

Innumerable moments later, Kiyoomi is at the end of his stamina. The pressure coils deep within the lowest part of Kiyoomi's stomach, so he leans up and speaks softly in Hinata's ear. "I don't think you know just how beautiful you are."

Hinata lets out a moan, even as he shivers from Kiyoomi's breath on his ear, and Kiyoomi pulls back into a whisper. "You make me feel special when I get to see you this way." 

Hinata tenses underneath Kiyoomi's grasp, and the sounds he was holding back come out unbidden. His body spasms around Kiyoomi's cock, and they're strong--even if Kiyoomi wasn't as close to coming as he is right now, it would have likely sent him over the edge. Instead, the shudders come through as he gasps for air and holds Hinata even closer. 

Hinata hums in contentment, and he turns around to kiss Kiyoomi, who shudders at the spikes of hypersensitivity shooting through his groin. He reaches down, grabs a hold of the condom, which mitigates the worst of it. Kiyoomi has no desire to move just yet, because Hinata is lazily kissing him blind. 

Just as the thoughts about cleaning up start to nag in Kiyoomi's mind, Hinata hoists himself up to sitting, even as he has to steady himself on Kiyoomi's knee. He looks back and smiles. "C'mon, let's go shower." 

Kiyoomi rolls over and waves Hinata off. "I'll be in shortly." Hinata's smile is soft, one that he hasn't seen often except directed at his phone. For once, Kiyoomi can quiet the voice in his brain that he's not good enough for Hinata. After his shower, he resolves, he'll ask Hinata to clarify what they are. 

Just as Kiyoomi ties off the condom, he hears the insistent buzzing of Hinata's phone getting message after message. He wipes his hands on the sheets that he'll change after his shower, and leans into the pile of clothing Hinata left as he undressed before. There's a moment of hesitation--Kiyoomi would get in so much shit if Hinata found out about this--but curiosity overtakes him, and he flips it to the front screen. 

The immediate thing that he can see are the amount of unanswered LINE messages. "Oikawa-san" in particular is particularly needy, and Hinata will have to answer a whopping thirty-seven messages from him. "Atsumu-san" has one outstanding message, but from the preview, it's standard teammate check-in, like he'd have with Motoya when they were still in high school. 

No, the one that makes Kiyoomi's heart plummet through his body is from the person labelled "Tsukki". Even Miya, who is arguably one of Hinata's closest, current friends, still has the honorific attached to his name. But this Tsukki, there is no honorific, and even worse, there are adorable emojis around the name, as if Hinata were a twelve year old making his crush's name look that much more adorable in his school notebook. If Kiyoomi were to test this out with his own phone, he would guess that his own name would come up without emojis as well. 

He throws the phone onto the bed, and dumps the condom into the trash can on his way to the shower. Hinata sings mindless lyrics to one of his made-up songs, and for a moment, Kiyoomi doesn't want to join him. Any illusion that he had of being special in Hinata's life has gone down the drain like the water sluicing off Hinata's back. 

"Omi-san!" Hinata yells from inside the room. "Are you coming, or are you cleaning?" 

Kiyoomi opens the door, and enters. "No, I'm here." His voice sounds dead in his own ears, but judging from the wide smile on Hinata's face, he can't tell the difference. Instead, Kiyoomi steps into the shower, wraps Hinata in his arms, and tries to kiss away all of his insecurities. It doesn't work as planned, as Hinata has to pull away, catch his breath, and wipe the worst of the rivulets away from his face. 

After finding a cleaning rhythm, Kiyoomi turns the water off on the shower, and passes a towel to Hinata. He gets the worst of the drips before he leaves the stall, and works on drying his hair on his way through the living room. In the languid pace that Kiyoomi took through his apartment while half-blinded by the towel, Hinata makes it to the bedroom in far quicker steps. By the time that Kiyoomi sets aside his towel, Hinata is at the corner of the bed, holding his phone. 

"Omi-san, do you know why this is here?" Hinata looks at Kiyoomi and moves the phone in his hand slightly. "I thought it was in my pocket." 

Busted. Kiyoomi's heart rate rises, and while normally he would be blunt and tell the truth, consequences be damned, there's a high chance that Hinata would leave. 

So he lies. 

"I know you leave stuff around sometimes, and you're pretty attached to it. Maybe you left it there without remembering?" 

Hinata just looks at his phone, then to his pile of clothing, and finally back out towards where the genkan is on the opposite side of the wall. It takes longer than Kiyoomi would like for Hinata to place his phone on the nightstand, and mutter, "Fine." 

They change the sheets as a team, something well-practiced and coordinated. Unlike a few minutes before, the silence between them is no longer content and lazy, but it is palpable and tense. With a final flutter of the blanket as they work to spread it over the bed, Kiyoomi climbs in.

Hinata climbs in too, but stays tense until he finally surrenders to sleep. 

* * *

With the air between him and Hinata as tense as it is, it's no wonder that during breaks at practice, that Kiyoomi ends up alone. It's a court day, which means he fills his time trying to get an unbroken streak of passes to himself. It's usually a meditative exercise, which is needed--Kiyoomi can see Miya and Hinata laughing in the corner. 

He's approaching seven hundred passes when Kiyoomi sees the shock of blond hair moving in his periphery. He bumps the ball up extra high, waves his arms around until the back of his hand makes contact with skin. By the time he's able to form his platform again, he has to dip down a little lower to keep the ball going. 

Miya yelps as soon as Kiyoomi's hand makes contact. "Didja have to hit me that hard?" 

"You were about to break my streak."

He lets out a huff behind Kiyoomi. "I dunno what's goin' on with you and Sho-kun, but ya have to fix yer shit, and fast." 

Kiyoomi catches the ball to end his streak at seven hundred twenty five, a round enough number. He turns to face Miya, and Kiyoomi fixes his posture so that he's at his full height. 

"Like I'm going to be listening to someone known for mouthing off at people?" 

Miya sneered back at him. "There's playful pokin', and then there's goin' way too far. It seems like I know the difference, and you don't." 

Before Kiyoomi could do anything stupid like push Miya away from him, he hears Hinata's voice calling across the gym, and moving closer. "Omi-san! Atsumu-san! Didn't you hear? Coach wants us back in a huddle." 

Kiyoomi didn't hear, but he follows anyway. 

* * *

Kiyoomi slowly eats the dinner that Hinata made him as he replays his encounter with Miya. There was something about the whole thing that set him on edge, like Miya was holding back some bit of information that he shouldn't know. 

No, it was dangerous for them to be friends, and Kiyoomi is reaping the consequences of that. 

Hinata sets down his chopsticks. "What's going on with you? I know you fought with Atsumu-san earlier, but this is ridiculous." 

"I don't think you two should be as friendly as you are." Kiyoomi sets down his own chopsticks. 

As he clenches his fist, Hinata's back stiffens. "You're really going to try and tell me who my friends should be?" 

In all of the time that Kiyoomi has known Hinata, this is the most defensive and dangerous that he's ever seen him. "I just don't think he has your best interests in mind." 

Hinata pushes the food sharply towards the middle of the table, and stands up quickly. "Nope, I can't do this." 

He goes towards his bag, opens up the end, and goes into the bathroom. Kiyoomi hears the clatter of toiletries being thrown to the ground, and it's an easy guess that Hinata is packing the things he's left behind for weeks. Kiyoomi winces at every dropped item in there, even as it drowns out his heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

Hinata bursts out of the bathroom, and determinedly makes his way to the bedroom past Kiyoomi's outstretched arm. There's a drawer in there, just for him, that he could have his stuff in and it wouldn't be untidy. As wood crashes against the wall in the room, Kiyoomi tucks his legs against his chest, and holds tight. 

It's sinking in. Hinata doesn't plan to come back. 

By the time Hinata emerges, there's clothing haphazardly coming out of the bag, and a fire in his eyes that shakes Kiyoomi to the core. 

"I thought that Tsukki was the measurement of how deeply insecure someone could be, but  _ wow _ ," Hinata smiles amidst that wide-eyed fury, "You just became the new low-bar." 

Hinata toes on his shoes in the genkan and slams the apartment door behind him. 

Kiyoomi pulls out his phone, and somewhere between unlocking it and getting to Motoya's contact card, his body starts shaking to the point it was tough to move his fingers to the call button. Not that Motoya could do all that much from Tokyo, at least this late in the preseason. 

Instead, he drops his phone, rests his forehead against his knees, and tries to forget the feeling of tears running down his legs. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I have some social media I've been known to check on occasion:
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/littlemisstpk?s=09) (18+ only please, I softblock people I can't find an age indication for) 
> 
> [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.qa/littlemisstpk)


End file.
